Page 54 of Safe With Me
“Tate.” His name emerged as a husky plea. Tears filled her eyes, and her bottom lip turned down in a pout. “Why are you doing this?”
Her glance over his shoulder at me told me exactly how she planned to spin this. I’d be the villain. Again.
She sniffed. “I know you love me.”
“I can’t stand the sight of you.” He folded his arms over his chest. I caught a quick glimpse of Trace on his feet, hands planted at his hips, all assistant-principal disapproval.
Big tears spilled over her thick lashes and onto her perfectly highlighted cheeks. She pinned a distraught look on me. “Why do you hate me? Jase wasn’t enough, so you had to ruin this, too?”
Sara gripped my fingers so hard my knuckles ground under her grip.
A growl erupted from Tate’s throat. “You lying–”
“No.” Trace shouldered by him, a hand on his chest. Greta, who co-owned the place, hustled toward us, and I cringed. I’d known her forever, so maybe . . . Trace drew himself up, giving Elizabeth a stern glare. “It’s time for you to go.”
Greta stopped at Elizabeth’s side. “You’re not disturbing our guests.”
“Why do I have to leave?” Elizabeth flung a hand in my direction, our maternal grandmother’s cocktail ring glittering on her finger. “It’s all Hannah’s fault.”
“You can walk out now.” Greta pulled her phone from her pocket. “Or have a deputy escort you out.”
Rage vibrated off my sister, but she cast a quick tear-filled glance at the camera one of her entourage held and sniffled. With one last glare at me, she turned away on a sob. She scrambled up the steps, Nicole’s arm around her.
I stared down at my hand under Sara’s grasp. Every eye on me felt like a ton. I was weighed down bytons.
Tate leaned in to tuck my hair behind my ear, his voice a rough whisper. “Want to go?”
Eyes squeezed shut, I remembered his low voice telling me how he wished I wouldn’t let Elizabeth limit my life. With a shaky sigh, I lifted my gaze to his. “No.”
Relieved respect flared in his dark gaze. “Okay.”
He settled in the chair next to me, and I tried to ignore everyone staring at us while Greta took our orders herself. The remainder of our meal was torturous, but I managed to eat, although I tasted absolutely nothing. Who knew what would show up on YouTube now?
Did it even matter?
The bigger issue still loomed – what I was doing with Tate. What I was doingtoTate.
Elizabeth had used him, forcing that kiss on him. I was doing the same thing, although differently.
I didn’t want to be anything like her.
When I left the Millhouse an hour or so later, this time his truck followed my SUV. He parked and trailed me to the door, learning around to punch in the entry code, a little routine thathad become part of our evenings. I caught a whiff of his soap and cologne, eyes prickling. I washed that scent off me every night after we were together because I was afraid to have it clinging to my skin, my sheets.
In the living room, I wrapped my arms around my midriff and made myself look at him.
“I’m so proud of you, baby.” Tate swallowed, and I followed the bob of his Adam’s apple. How was that sexy? “I know that was tough.”
“We should stop this.”
He blinked. “What?”
“The sleeping together . . .the . . . we’re not a good idea.”
I expected an explosion. Instead, he sat on the edge of the sofa, hands between his knees. He watched me with slightly narrowed, serious eyes. “Hannah, sit down and tell me what you’re thinking.”
My turn to blink. I’d expected . . . what? An impassioned argument? A physical seduction, maybe.
His face gentled. “Sugar, sit down. Slow it down and talk to me.”
